


Prodigal Daughters

by rosamonds



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28633836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosamonds/pseuds/rosamonds
Summary: AU where Sam and Dean are girls and John dies in the fire instead of Mary
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Mary Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	Prodigal Daughters

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in a day with minimal proofreading because i couldn't get the thought out of my head, don't think i'm going to write more for it but i might. hope you enjoy <3 wincest shippers dni.

On the second of November 1983, Dean pulls her little sister out of a fire.  
“Deanna, take your sister outside as fast as you can.” Mary hands baby Sam to her older daughter, smoke already filling their throats and eyes “Now, Dean, Go!” Dean clutches her little sister tight as she runs down the stairs, she hears Mary’s voice in her head ‘remember to support her head, make sure you keep an arm around her so you don’t drop her’ the advice comes from a quiet day in the summer, the first time Dean was allowed to hold her, Dean’s first memory. 

Mary presses her lips to Sammy’s head as she watches her attempt at freedom go up in flames. She tried to leave. She tried to be normal. She wanted to be normal. She wanted her children to be normal. But her father had been right, there’s no leaving this life. No matter how hard you try it just drags you back in. And this was her fault, she knew that. This was what the yellow eyed demon had wanted and John was dead again. All of it had been for nothing.

The police advise her against leaving, tell her to rent a motel for the night, or stay with a friend. “You’re in no fit state to drive, Mrs. Winchester,” they say. They try to stop her. “It’s Mrs. Campbell,” she says.

She drives the whole night, Deanna and Samantha asleep in the backseat of the impala. “Forgive me,” she whispers to them. “Forgive me,” she whispers to John. “Forgive me.” but they can’t. They won’t. She knows that. 

The old Campbell family home hasn’t been touched in years, not since the night Mary first met the yellow eyed demon. It had gone to her, the only heir, after her parents had died and she hadn’t had the heart to sell it, she had tried not to think about it, tried to ignore it’s call. But here she is again. The key sticks in the lock, it takes three tries before the door groans open. The lights don’t work and the water is disconnected, she’ll deal with it tomorrow. Dean hasn’t said a word since they got out of the car. She wouldn’t say anything for months. 

Mary gives Dean her old room, making her old bed with an ease she never had in Lawrence, like her body remembers. “We’re going to be okay, baby, we’re going to be okay,” She doesn’t know who needs more convincing. “Angels are watching…” Mary stops herself, there’s no point in platitudes. They might be watching but they certainly aren’t looking after them. 

Mary wraps herself in John’s leather jacket and curls up in her parent’s bed, choked by the guilty fire burning in her stomach.

Dean is six and Sammy is two the first time Mary leaves them alone overnight to hunt. She promised herself she would wait until Dean was old enough, 8 maybe, but it’s a full moon and she knows where this werewolf is going to be, she has to go. John would’ve understood, she tells herself, he would’ve done the same thing. She won’t be gone that long. Sam and Dean have cereal for dinner.

The gun feels heavy and cold in Dean’s hand, she is seven years old. Mary instructs her what to do, explains it carefully, how to be safe, how to aim. Dean hits every target on her first try. It’s nice to be good at something, to feel Mary’s hand ruffling her hair, she hasn’t seen her mom smile like that in a long time. Every time Dean comes home with a failed math test “It’s not that hard, Deanna, you’re a smart girl, I don’t know why you refuse to try.” and all protestations that it just doesn’t make sense fall on deaf ears, or a teacher writes home about a detention, “Talking back to a teacher, Dean? I didn’t raise you like that. Your father wouldn’t have stood for it.” Any time she feels useless she goes into the backyard, she shoots. It’s nice to be good at something.

Sammy's first day of school. Dean braids her hair into two long plaits. Two things Dean is good at: shooting, and looking after her little sister. Mary is on a hunt, she’ll be back on Wednesday. “I wish we had a normal mom,” Sammy complains, “I wish she wouldn’t go away.”  
“Don’t say that,” Dean says. She knows where Mary goes. “Mom saves the world, she’s a superhero. That’s better than a normal mom.” She ties a ribbon around the end of the dark hair.  
“Like Wonder Woman?”  
“Better.”  
“Well I don’t want Wonder Woman. I want a mom. Like on TV. and I want a dad.”  
“Tough.” but Dean lies awake at night praying for the same thing. If not for herself, for Sammy. She doesn’t pray to god, or the angels, she knows they aren’t real. She prays to Mary. Stay, she quietly begs, be our mom again.

Sam is 10, she’s rifling through Mary’s jewellery box. She turns her father’s wedding ring around in her hand, she can’t imagine someone having hands that big. She puts down the ring and picks up a fine golden chain with a crucifix dangling off it. Mary never wears it anymore, she doesn’t see much point in faith. Sam does. She doesn’t know much about it, she just likes the feeling, believing in something greater, in salvation. She likes the idea of being forgiven, but she’s not quite sure what she’s done that needs forgiving, maybe it’s about what she will do. “You can have that if you want,” Mary says, surprising Sam.  
“I didn’t know you were home,” Sam drops the chain guiltily.  
“I just got back.” Mary smiles and hugs her, then she pulls back and holds Sam by the shoulders, looking at her. “You’ve grown again,” she says, almost sadly, “my baby girl is gonna be taller than me soon.” Sam laughs. “Here,” Mary reaches across Sam and picks up the necklace, “turn around.” Sam turns around, looking at herself in the mirror as Mary fastens the thin chain around her neck. She doesn’t think she’s pretty, she doesn’t really care, but she’s too gangly and awkward to be pretty. She likes her hair, long and slightly curled like her mom’s, but much darker, like her dad’s. She touches the crucifix with her finger, the metal still cold against her neck. “It suits you,” Mary says, “keep it.”  
“Really?” Sam asks.  
“Yeah,” Mary kisses the top of her head, she has to make sure to do that while she still can, not long now before little Sammy will be kissing the top of hers, “my mom gave it to me when I was about your age, and her mom gave it to her, I want you to have it. Maybe one day you can give it to your daughter.”  
“Thanks,” Sam says quietly, “I’m glad you're home, mom.”

Sammy gets an award from school, top mathlete. Dean kills her first werewolf. Sam joins the soccer team. Dean gets a job at the local convenience store. Mary is gone more now, and for longer. The memories of John, domestic life, safety, all feel like a distant dream now, the days spent when they couldn’t talk to each other without yelling warped through thick rose coloured glasses. Her only souvenir is the impala, which she has converted into an Arsenal. She’s a hunter, and a damn good one. Dean comes too sometimes. Mary stopped fighting her on school a long time ago, some people just don’t have that kind of brain, she gets that. As long as she’s scraping through she figures it's okay for her to skip a few days here and there. Dean is like her, she was never going to be normal, so she might as well hunt. But Sam, Sam is all John. Smart, charming. She could get out, Mary thinks. If anyone could it would be her Sammy. But Sam wants in, she practices shooting targets, annoys Dean until she helps her, shows her how to do it. Her soccer coach pulls her aside to say she appreciates her spirit, but she’s too aggressive, she needs to be more careful. Sam tries to hide her grin. 

Dean’s first boyfriend calls her Anna. He says he doesn’t like ‘Dean’, it sounds too masculine’, and ‘Deanna’ is too long. Dean isn’t sure how to feel about it. ‘Anna’ doesn’t feel like her, maybe that's a good thing. They break up after 3 months, she brushes it off, but she can’t help but feel like Anna would’ve been happier than Dean. It certainly would’ve been easier. Anna doesn’t hunt monsters, Anna has time to look at clothes before she buys them, and she doesn’t have to buy them from the thrift store either, maybe Anna could wear a dress, go to the movies. But Dean isn’t Anna. It was stupid to think she could be. After that, Dean goes to parties, gets drunk. She sleeps with boys who don’t know her name, hoping that if she tries hard enough she can forget it too.

Sam knows that she doesn’t like boys. She tells Dean after being asked out by Richie James in freshman year. Dean thinks maybe she’s just too young, when she’s older she will. But Sam knows. “I like girls, Dean.” she says, defensive. “I like girls the way you like boys.” I certainly hope not, Dean thinks, she hopes Sam never feels about anything the way Dean feels about boys. “That’s fine, Sammy.” She says.  
“Do you think mom will mind?” Sam hugs her long legs to her chest, longer than Deans already.  
“I don’t know,” Dean says truthfully, “But she loves you. And I love you. She wants you to be happy.”  
“She wants me to be normal.” Sam pulls at her hair, twisting it around her finger, “I don’t know if I can be.” 

Stanford is a pipe dream, they all know that. But they’re determined. Campbell women don’t back down from a fight. Dean keeps her supplied with snacks, “gotta keep that beanpole body standing somehow if you wanna go to college”. Mary stays home for longer than she has in years to help Sam study for her SATs, “If your dad were here he would be so proud,” she says late one night, after watching Sam solve equation after equation in record time, and she strokes Sam’s hair, gives her a kiss on the forehead, “that’s where you get your brains from.” Sam never knew John, but she likes the thought of him, she imagines him watching over her, cheering her on. 

Dean finds the letter when she stumbles home from a party at 8 am. She crashes into Sammy’s room, still a little drunk, and in desperate need of a shower. “What the hell, Dean?” Sam grumbles, rubbing the sleep out her eyes, Dean pulls the letter out from behind her back and Sam shoots up in bed, snatching it from Dean’s fingers. She tears it open, reads the first line once, then twice, then three times before it sinks in. “Well?” Dean asks, almost as nervous as Sam.  
“Dear Samantha Capbell,” Sam reads in a shaky voice, “I am pleased to inform you that your application to Stanford has been accepted-” Dean cuts her off, tackling her into a bear hug and screaming excitedly in her ear. Mary comes rushing in, holding the bat she keeps by her bed.  
“What’s going on?” She asks, “Dean?”  
“I got in. Full ride,” Sam says, disbelieving.  
“You got in?” Mary drops the baseball bat.  
Dean pulls away and shakes Sam by the shoulders, “She got in!” Mary hugs Sam tight. It’s gonna be okay, she thinks, she can get out. And she feels lighter than she has in years. 

Mary warned Dean that it would happen but it still hurts when Sam stops calling. She had promised Dean she would but college life is busy, and the pretty girl from her sociology 101 class is interesting. She’s sure Dean will understand. And Dean does, or tries to anyway. She throws herself into hunting, she’s good. Almost too good, Mary thinks. It makes her nervous, the way Dean will charge into anything without much care for her own safety. And it’s not just hunts, Dean is reckless, drinking too much, getting into fights in bars with men almost twice her size. “What’s gotten into you?” Mary demands after a close call with a ghoul, Dean nursing a gash on her forearm sitting on the hood of the impala. “What?” Dean snaps back.  
“It’s like you want to get hurt!” Dean scoffs and shakes her head, her dark blonde ponytail swinging.  
“That’s ridiculous. Why would I want to get hurt?” the truth is she doesn’t care, she loves the thrill, the adrenaline right when she isn’t sure if she’s gonna make it out of this one. Maybe she does want to get hurt. It doesn’t matter. She had done her job, she had carried Sam out of the fire, and Sam had got herself out of the frying pan. Now Sam doesn’t need her anymore and Dean figures she can help as many people as possible, kill as many evil sons of bitches as possible, and then go out swinging. Some things are inevitable.

Mary and Dean settle into a rhythm, they trek across the country in the impala, barely going home anymore, staying in motels or with friends. They barely notice that Christmas has come and gone, Sam decided to stay in California over the holidays, she said she wanted to experience a sunny Christmas, Mary suspects a boyfriend, Dean knows about Jess. 

Sam is good at college, she’s good at fitting in, acing her classes, she’s a good roommate, good at being a girlfriend. Good at being Jess’ girlfriend. She’s happy. She’s almost happy. There’s something nagging at her, something pulling in her chest, keeping her awake. Something like guilt, the constant guilt for she doesn’t know what. She puts her hand over her necklace, she hopes whatever it is she’s done can be forgiven.

Dean breaks into Sam’s apartment. She could have called ahead and told her she was coming but she hadn’t wanted to explain over the phone, she didn’t think she was capable of it. She spent almost an hour in the car before working up the resolve to do it. “Forgive me,” she whispered to Sam, “Forgive me,” she whispered to Mary. She was pulling Sam back into the fire. 

Sam comes out of her room holding a baseball, a habit she picked up from mom, and Dean dodges it, easily knocking her little sister to the floor. “Dean?” Sam had barely recognised her. Her hair was short, roughly cropped around her ears like she had done it herself, and her nose was set slightly crooked. Had it really been that long since they’d seen each other? Dean held out a hand to help her up, “Hiya, Sammy.” she grins. Sam pulls her in for a hug. “Dean, what are you doing here?” Dean’s smile fades, but she tries to keep it up.  
“What, not happy to see your big sis?”  
“Always, Dean, of course! But-” She notices the leather jacket that Dean is wearing, “Is that dad’s jacket?” "Where's mom?”  
Dean takes a deep breath.

“Mom’s on a hunting trip, and she hasn’t been home in a few days.” 

On the second of November 2005, Dean pulls her little sister out of a fire. 

“We’ve got work to do,” Sam says. Mary had been right. There’s no leaving this life.


End file.
